


Bad Ideas (and good ones too)

by IncandescentAntelope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College Student Katsuki Yuuri, Complete, Depression, Don't copy to another site, Drinking, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Eventual Smut, Fraternities & Sororities, Getting Together, Hockey Player Victor Nikiforov, M/M, One Night Stands, Partying, Power Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Tutor Katsuki Yuuri, Yuuri is super salty, frat boy victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, captain of his university’s hockey team, has slowly lost control of his grades (his mental health too, but he doesn't know that yet) and is being threatened with being benched; with some convincing, he seeks help from a tutor, and it’s the best decision he has ever made in his life.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti
Comments: 146
Kudos: 544





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savsglasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savsglasses/gifts).



> I was originally going to write a cute little hookup oneshot about himbo frat boy Viktor as a birthday gift for my number one beech, my silly lil goober of a bean, Sav, but. This fic grew legs and the plot ran away from me while I was writing. So! Have three chapters instead of one! Happy birthday honeybee! Thanks for the premise for the fic! 😂 ily ❤️❤️
> 
> beta-d by [ Linisen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linisen) and [Fuzzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzycatsandgoofyhats/pseuds/fuzzycatsandgoofyhats) ❤️

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor needs help, he just isn't ready to accept it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening:  
> Bad Ideas- Tessa Violet [ (x)](https://youtu.be/eNtK6jx9y4A)  
> Mess- Noah Kahan [(x)](https://youtu.be/zDshd5Z19MM)

“Vitya!” Christophe’s voice rumbled through the thudding music, handing him his refilled cup, PBR nearly sloshing over the rim. “You’re not having enough fun!”

His enthusiastic (and god, incredibly handsy) friend was wrong, Viktor was having exactly no fun. Zero. Absolutely no fun at all. Most of his teammates had already found someone to dance with, whether it was one of the girls from the sorority down the street or the frat next door. There were a few strange faces that Viktor didn’t recognize, outside dates and non-Greek friends were allowed this time around, being a weeknight and all. Low turnout made the house less attractive for the big weekend parties, after all.

Chris sighed dramatically. “Well. Fine. Go all stoic on me, Captain. But I have a friend coming later, and he said he’s bringing a friend too,” Viktor barely registered what his best friend was saying as he noticed the lack of his little brother in the fray of dancers. (Not biological, though the fact that the two of the only Russians in the house were paired up when Yuri joined the brotherhood three years ago had been a bit of a joke.)

“Where’s Yuri?” Viktor asked Chris, who had long since disappeared into the throng of moving bodies in the living room. Viktor sipped his beer and sighed, trudging up the stairs and away from the scene below, though the pulsing beat still seemed to follow him through the house. Up to the third floor, where Yuri’s room was, and had been since his first day. He had scared away every single one of his roommates, and was the only underclassman to have his own room.

He knocked gently on the closed door, but leaning in a bit closer to the thin wood revealed that Yuri not only probably didn’t want to be disturbed, but had a guest in the room with him. Viktor knew better to intrude there, having walked in on Yuri and his boyfriend, Otabek, a handful of times, like his big brother had walked in on Viktor and his various bedfellows in the past.

He turned on his heel and climbed up one more floor, where he, Georgi, Chris, and a handful of their teammates had made their home since they moved into the house. The crossover between the hockey team and the brotherhood made their bond even stronger, Viktor always explained in interviews. _“It’s like playing with your brothers. We’re family out there on the ice, we take care of each other.”_

Viktor downed his beer and dropped the cup on his desk, slumping into his chair; the music still pulsed painfully in his temples, thudding like his heartbeat. Maybe he’d need something stronger than the beer to forget that morning. He’d been sick to his stomach, aching down to his toes at the threat of academic ineligibility, the forced assignation of a tutor (which he staunchly refused to meet that afternoon) and the humiliating threat of being benched until his grades rose to their usual standard.

Viktor was an intelligent man, he had been told as such his entire life, stuck in gifted child and accelerated learning programs only to fall behind at some point halfway through college, his fellow students finally caught up with him, surpassed him, leaving him in the dust as courses continued to get harder. There were a thousand reasons, looking back on it, but before Viktor could blink, he found himself chest-deep in a cold, unfeeling numbness that only slightly receded when he was on the ice… but even that had begun to feel like drudgery.

And that was terrifying.

The email was still up on his laptop screen when he flipped up the lid, and Viktor pushed away from his desk at seeing the letterhead of the university.

_As outlined in the student athlete agreement, athletes are expected to uphold at least a 2.5 GPA, failure to do so may result in temporary suspension and/or removal from the team..._

It was time for a stronger drink.

* * *

Viktor woke with an ungodly hangover.

Nothing new for him at that point, he’d been alternating between long nights at the rink and getting embarrassingly, irresponsibly drunk for a few weeks now, but nothing made him groan deeper or with more frustration than waking to find someone sharing his bed.

 _Fuck_ , he didn’t remember what happened after Chris talked him into jello shots.

He whispered a soft apology to the warm body he had evidently shared the night with, his smaller frame wearing nothing but Viktor’s team sweatshirt. It was far too big and rumpled around his frame, his body utterly swallowed by it. Viktor took only a moment to enjoy the fantasy of someone wandering around a shared apartment in just his clothing, something that felt like fondness curling in his chest. He wrote out a short note with his phone number and slipped it into the unfamiliar wallet he had found on the floor.

He felt bad for leaving, but god, he needed to wash off the Malibu and sweat. After one last look at the body in his bed, small and lithe, his slender but strong legs twisted in his sheets… Viktor dared to kneel beside the bed, smiling at his half-open mouth. His liquor breath was strong and he was undoubtedly going to feel just as hungover as Viktor did. He pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and ducked out into the hall, pulling the door softly closed behind him.

After a purposefully long shower, he made his way back to his room, finding it empty of the partner he had spent the night with, as well as the sweatshirt he had been wearing.

He shrugged it off, knowing he could always acquire hoodie. It was far from the first time he had lost an item of clothing to a hookup; he had it on good authority that there was a stash of his jerseys somewhere in Coach Feltsman’s office, for when he inevitably lost another jersey in a game of strip poker (which he was often purposefully bad at) or letting a one night stand wander out of the house in something a bit more appropriate than what he had come to the party in the night before.

Viktor grimaced as the sun streamed in through his window, heralding a shamefully late morning. After taking what he guessed was probably the right amount of painkillers and putting away nearly two full bottles of water left scattered around his room, he used the last of his phone battery to call in an obscene amount of hangover breakfast from the diner just down the street, ordering enough for the rest of the house to enjoy when they woke up too.

Only Georgi and a few underclassmen were awake so far that morning, and Viktor made easy conversation about the next planned mixer with Kappa Upsilon Alpha and the girls from Sigma Chi, all of them groaning in pain when the front door swung open, rattling loudly against the wall, heralding the arrival of their breakfast. (Viktor may have sweet-talked one of the freshmen into running deliveries for them.)

The few brothers awake dug in quickly, inhaling greasy hash browns and bacon, all of them accustomed to a hockey player’s diet of _anything_ and _everything_. It wasn’t until Viktor’s phone had finally charged enough to turn back on that he noticed the time; he nearly choked on his over-easy eggs.

Viktor had three concurrent, immediate realizations.

One, he had slept in far later than he first thought.

Two, he had somehow cracked his screen the night before.

Three. He had missed his Accounting exam.

 _“Fuck,”_ Viktor swore, his mouth full of egg, coming out more a grumbled mess of sounds than a word.

“What?” Georgi replied with a yawn, still trying to shake the haze of tequila.

“I had an exam this morning,” Viktor answered after swallowing, wiping the stray grease that had stayed behind on his lips.

“Which class?” Georgi asked, the concern evident as he pushed away from the table, pulling out the ingredients for their typical hangover cure. Something Viktor’s mamochka had taught him the morning after his eighteenth birthday, a lemon wedge sprinkled with coffee and sugar accompanied by a shot of vodka. “Oh, Vitya… it wasn’t…”

Viktor groaned. “It _was_. God, Coach is going to kill me.” Yakov was going to kill him, he’d threatened as much when he had sat Viktor down last week about his poor grades. Threatened benching him, even. Viktor had brushed him off, scoffing at the idea that his coach would dare bench him in the runup to the playoffs, but the threat loomed closer and closer as his grades had begun to slip further into alarming territory.

“Can you email your prof? Maybe you can get a retake?” Georgi offered, sliding a saucer and a shot glass in front of Viktor with a comforting smile. They paused for a moment, biting into the lemon wedges with a slight wince, the coffee and sugar barely masking the tart flavor. Neither one of them was sure it worked, but nevertheless, they tried it every time.

“I really don’t want to,” Viktor groaned after they downed their shots, hissing at the burn on his tongue. “She’s a nightmare, Gosha. I swear he’s been trying to fail me all semester.”

Georgi rolled his eyes and focused on his breakfast again. “Or, hear me out, darling,” he cooed in the same voice he used on Yuri’s cat (that the landlord definitely didn’t know about), “You stopped trying a few years ago.”

Viktor turned up his nose at the accusation, regardless of how accurate it was. “Shut up, you know I’m useless at math.”

“Useless at math or not, Viktor Nikiforov is an intelligent idiot and never let a bad professor get in his way before.” Georgi’s retort rolled off Viktor’s back, lifting a bite of glazed ham to his lips. "Regardless of this… himbo energy you have going on.

“What’s this about Viktor being a himbo?” Chris’s voice drifted down the hallway, along with a soft giggle that Viktor didn’t recognize. “Go on, _mon cher_ , I’ll call you after class.” his voice rumbled, bidding goodbye to his partner from the night before, holding open the door.

“Oh, have any of you seen Yuuri?” Chris’s friend asked, his chocolate eyes meeting everyone else’s one by one. Viktor shrugged, the name not sounding a bit familiar. He sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket, clearly dialing his lost friend. “He probably went home last night… okay, thanks boys!”

“ _Adieu_ , little bird,” Chris crooned, kissing him wetly on the mouth, making Viktor and Georgi roll their eyes. The front door swung shut and Chris eagerly joined the few seated around the table for breakfast. “Now, what did our beloved Golden Boy do this time?”

Viktor groaned and tossed a muffin at his best friend, who caught it easily. He had a goalie’s hands, Chris was always quick to brag.

“Our Vitka missed an exam and might fail a class.” Georgi answered for him when Viktor took another bite of his breakfast instead of answering. Christophe and Georgi took turns teasing him and comforting him, their chirping and playful teasing no less annoying than it was during games.

“Have you thought about seeing a tutor?” Chris offered after a while, all of them finally shaking the vestiges of their collective hangover.

“God, not you too.” Viktor groaned, pushing away from the table. “Coach keeps trying to set me up with a tutor. I swear, I would rather fail than have someone explain it to me like I’m a child.”

Georgi scoffed. _“You sure are acting like a child,”_ he mumbled in Russian. “Yakov cares about you, Vitya. Pull your head out of your ass and give it a try.”

 _“Nyet,”_ Viktor snapped, “Can you two please stop talking down to me? Jesus.”

Maybe it was the hangover, maybe it was the frustration finally beginning to seep out at the edges. He had been carefully holding it back, never letting the cool, unbothered facade crack. Until today. He left his two best friends sitting at the kitchen table and took a tiny pleasure in throwing his door shut like a teenager.

There his laptop still was, that _fucking_ email still open. He deleted it almost immediately, clenching his jaw as he began a new message to his professor, swallowing the ugly lump of pride in his throat.

After the email was sent, Viktor leaned back in his chair, deciding he could probably afford to skip his Anthropology lecture. Again.

* * *

Viktor groaned as he trudged across campus, his loafers felt full of cured cement as he made the walk to the library, only after stopping for a drink at the coffee shop in the student union building. His few attempts at studying for his exam retake had ended in disaster, not granted a single moment of quiet in the house or the coffee shop. All of the study spaces littered across campus were full of chatty people, fans who recognized him, or cute boys, and all of them were far too loud for his mind to focus.

So the library it was.

Georgi had finally convinced him to try the library, assuring him that it would be worth a try. Viktor’s visits to the library began and ended as a rendezvous point if he and his brothers got split up after a party crawl on campus… he had never made use of it after orientation. The building was new, a construction marvel that had ended during his first semester; five stories of stacks and study spaces, an outdoor courtyard with living greenery on the third floor, an entire wall made of glass running ground floor to roof. He had been told about the privacy of the upper level study rooms, but he hadn’t made use of them himself.

There were plenty of other places he had christened though.

Viktor swallowed as he pushed open one of the heavy glass doors, feeling the air conditioning blast like he had just walked into the rink. The space itself was daunting, and just the lobby proved to make him feel impossibly small.

His eyes fell on the large circular desk, full of very studious-looking people, all wearing name tags, shrouded in that librarian air that had Viktor’s stomach immediately churning. Not that he disliked librarians, of course, but he felt as if they could _smell_ the desperation on him, and he’d rather eat his own loafers than be pitied by a stranger.

He turned sharply to the right, eyeing an empty table in the plush studying area, well-furnished with workspaces and slouchy chairs. He kept his eyes down as he moved, praying no one would recognize him as the clear fish out of water. As he moved, he passed a smaller desk, the sign strung from the ceiling reading _Reference_. A painfully attractive man sat behind it, his nose buried in a book. It was a novel that Viktor recognized, a romance novel Viktor himself had read; it had two gay leads.

Viktor’s step hiccuped, a blip on his gaydar turning into a full-blown five alarm warning as he caught a glimpse of a gorgeous pair of mahogany eyes moving in a slow line across the page, the tip of an adorable pink tongue pressed out in thought. Something about the gesture felt familiar, but Viktor shook himself and kept moving, despite wanting to stop and talk to the cute Reference Desk guy wearing his cute blue glasses.

He moved quickly, taking his seat as far away from the front desk as possible, unsure of why he felt so skittish in a place that was so clearly meant for academic help. He pulled out his well-loved laptop, flipped open his Accounting textbook and his notes from the previous unit. His eyes almost immediately glazed over, the numbers swimming in his head without hope of understanding.

He jumped at the sensation of someone tapping on his shoulder, feeling like he’d been caught doing something illicit. He turned and met the eye of who he assumed was a fan, if the school t-shirt was any hint. Viktor smiled as his stomach fell to the floor, remembering the call he’d received from coach, knowing that failing to pass his retake meant being benched. He nodded and talked politely with them, taking the compliments with a practiced smile.

“So, any professional hopes?” the fan asked, their eyes bright and sparkling, reminding Viktor distantly of Yuri on his first day in the house. “You’ve surely got a few scouts after you, right? You’re the most promising forward this school has had in decades, they’d be stupid not to.”

Viktor smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Sure, he’d thought about it, but his concrete plans barely went beyond the next Saturday night, never mind something so distant as post-graduation. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll go to a few tryouts, but I’m going to focus on playoffs and taking the ship this season.”

“Oh, oh of course,” they replied eagerly, standing from their seat. “I’ll let you get back to studying, Captain,” they babbled, hurrying away with a bright smile on their face. On any other day it would have made Viktor smile too, but it stung instead. He waited until they were out of sight before letting the mask slip, turning back to his still indecipherable notes with a sigh.

Fishing his headphones out didn’t help either, the music only made his mind more cluttered. The frustration mounted behind his eyes and it began to feel like a migraine, building in pressure until he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t play in any games until he got his grades back up, but no one could stop him from practicing on his own. The ice didn’t ask questions, his stick gliding over the surface and vaulting a puck into the net didn’t make him run useless equations in his head.

He shoved his book back into his backpack, throwing the lid of his laptop back down. He could hear his mother’s voices encouraging him to stay, coach barking at him, demanding he figure his shit out. He stormed past a soft body, huffing an apology without turning around and made for the rink, hoping he could push the frustration out of his system on the ice.

His jersey hung loosely around him without his pads on, the chill of the ice sank into his skin like a friend; but the ugly pull of frustration still smoldered in his chest, no matter how many shots flew into the net or bounced off the boards.

He ran his footwork drills when his hands began to ache from the shudder of his stick against the ice, carving paths in the ice and sending sprays of shavings across the surface.

Sweat ran down his temples, traced down the curve of his spine, under his gloves and his shirt. His edge caught on a deep gash he had made in the ice earlier, setting him spinning off balance, catching himself on the upper lip of the boards, folding himself over the barrier to catch his breath.

Between breaths, he heard the loud grating rumble of the door opening, fluorescent light spilling out into the night. How long had he been skating?

“Fuck.” he gasped, finally feeling the exhaustion set in.

“Nikiforov.” Came the barking voice of his coach, the voice he had been dreading hearing most. He pushed off the barrier and toward the doored gap, very intent on ignoring him, despite the loud demands echoing off the walls. “Viktor, stop.”

He made no attempt to slow his step, not even stopping to slide his guards back into place on the blades. The rubber mats on the floor would shield them fine enough. He could hear the shuffling of feet as Yakov continued to pursue him, following him into the locker room.

“You’re being a child, Vitya.” his voice boomed even louder in the smaller space. “Do you have any idea the lengths I had to go to _only_ have you benched for a few games? They wanted indefinite suspension from the team, Viktor. They’re not joking about this.”

Viktor huffed, dropping onto the bench and yanking his feet free from his skates. “Then you might as well just kick me off the team, then, Coach. Because I can’t fucking do it.” He snapped in retort, throwing his sweat-damp fringe back over his forehead. “I tried, and I still can’t figure that shit out, I never will.”

“ _God’s sake_ , you’re a petulant brat, Nikiforov.” Yakov glowered, crossing his arms. “What about the tutor?”

“I didn’t meet the tutor.” Viktor replied simply, pulling his jersey over his head and throwing it into his coach’s arms, the red-ringed white number 96 still visible, though wrinkled and distorted.

 _“What?”_ Yakov snapped in disbelief. “The tutor I hired specifically to help you figure this out? You just blew him off?” Viktor nodded, a cold laugh bubbling out of his throat without trying.

“I’m not going to sit with a tutor like I’m twelve, Coach.” Viktor replied with all the bite of early January, sharp and frozen, cool, unbothered. The shame though, had been building. Shame that he needed help, shame that he had let it get this bad.

“And what, you’d rather fail the class, let your grades continue slipping the way they have been? Lose your scholarships? You’ll lose your professional prospects, did you think of that, Vitya? Both on the ice and off.” Yakov growled before blowing out a long, exasperated breath. “That stupid pride of yours is always getting in the way.”

Viktor met Yakov’s gaze at the sound of his slightly softened tone, a rare occurrence for his coach, who favored shouting to normal conversation most of the time.

“One session. That’s all I’ll ask, Vitya.” Yakov said, folding the jersey in his arms, his number facing up. “Meet him. Try your best on the retake. We’ll go from there.”

Viktor felt a small crack in the frozen facade slowly growing, a rumbling thudding sound as it crackled deeper and deeper into him, splitting the ice completely to his core. “I…” he began, interrupted by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Get back up, Vitya. We all stumble. Champions get back up.” he said simply, turning on his heel and leaving Viktor alone in the cool of the locker room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it so far! The next two chapters will be posted every other day, since it's already done! Leave a comment, drop a crumb of kudos, fuel the maniacal laughter machine that has recently replaced my brain!
> 
> love you all!  
> <3 ia


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor hears back from his one night stand, meets with his tutor and gets more than he bargained for.

Viktor sighed as he walked; he still hadn’t heard back from his one night stand, or gotten his sweatshirt back. He hoped whoever was sporting his name and number on campus was at least enjoying how soft it was. Or the half can of body spray that had probably fused with the fibers of it at that point. 

He thought back to the way the red and white had hung loosely around that frame, curled up with him in his small twin bed pushed up against the wall. God, he’d love to have another chance with him, or at least have the man help him remember what they did that night. Viktor’s memory was a fleeting thing, especially when he was drunk.

He had looked so sweet, curled against him that way, the soft smile so easy. Viktor sighed as he stepped into the library again, hoping to god he had a better time of it today than the day before. He saw that cute Reference Desk guy was sitting at the desk again, a different novel in his hand this time. He was just as cute as Viktor remembered, his ambery-brown eyes flicking side to side as he read, his chin supported in one hand, elbow on the table. A small smile graced full lips, and Viktor absently wondered if he could ask for his number.

Those pretty eyes jumped up from the page he was reading, meeting Viktor’s for just a moment, and Viktor held his breath. He smiled softly, his cheeks a beautiful shade of pink before looking back down to his book. Viktor felt his own cheeks flush and he hurried back to that same table near the back and began to unpack. That smile… god, it haunted him. 

Pretty boys seemed to enjoy haunting him.

Viktor settled into his place, a strange combination of annoyance and anxiety jumbled in his stomach as the clock on the wall ticked closer to two, when his appointment with the tutor Yakov arranged for him was supposed to begin. He crossed his fingers, hoping that, if anything, his tutor wouldn’t be a total dick.

His phone buzzed gently on the table, pulling his attention to a message from an unknown number.

**unknown (sent 1:46)** i had fun tuesday night  
 **unknown (sent 1:46)** sorry for stealing your jacket lol

Viktor’s heart jumped up into his throat. He knew the proper procedure for replying to messages from one night stands, but god, he’d kill to see the man from that morning again.

“Don’t worry about it…” Viktor mumbled out loud as he typed, “it looked much better on you, sweetheart, winky face.” he sent his message and debated asking him for a photo, or to ask for its safe return, with the promise of a date as thanks, but he didn’t have to ask. 

The photo that came through made Viktor’s toes curl in his slide sandals, showing off a perky ass peeking out from under the crimson hem of his sweatshirt, the white lettering of his last name and number boldly displayed across his back. His creamy skin looked just as delicious as it had that morning. 

“Oh wow…” Viktor said out loud, both to himself and as a reply, typing with shaking hands. “You look fantastic, can I see you again?” he added, impossibly glad for the distraction from his impending appointment. He saved the phone number and waited patiently for a reply, slowly pulling out his Accounting textbook as those three little dots bounced in the corner of his screen.

**cutie with all that cake (sent 1:53)** busy tomorrow?

Viktor swallowed thickly. His retake was going to take place that morning, but after that he was free. “Not too busy for you,” Viktor muttered as he typed, “there’s going to be another party at the house, wear the hoodie for me?”

**cutie with all that cake (sent 1:59)** just the hoodie? can do, captain 

Viktor’s cock twitched in his shorts, a warm thrum of pleasure rocking through him at the thought of seeing such a perfect ass again. He began typing a reply, but the day had other plans for him.

“Viktor?” a soft voice said, and he looked up from his phone to meet the pair of eyes he had met when he walked in earlier… cute Reference Desk guy. Viktor nearly swallowed his tongue in the attempt to gather his thoughts into a coherent sentence. 

“I… yes, that’s me,” Viktor stammered, sounding like he was just breaking free of the grasp of puberty; his voice cracked and squeaking a bit.

“You were here yesterday, weren’t you, Golden Boy?” he asked, and Viktor flushed at the use of his title from the ice. He nodded and the man smiled softly. “You seemed frustrated when you left.” he laughed sweetly, his nose scrunching up adorably. “My shoulder still hurts, but I guess you’re just that good at checking.”

Viktor’s stomach fell to his feet, feeling that awful mixture of shame wash over him in waves. It was him that he had pushed past. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Viktor fumbled, standing from his chair and nearly tripping on his laptop’s power cable. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just--”

“Just frustrated by your Accounting exam?” He finished, nodding down at the open books. Viktor felt himself grow hot with shame (again), that the cute boy with his gay romance novel and his cute glasses and the poodle sticker on his name tag was dressing him down so easily. (Yuuri, by the way, was the name on his name tag. Yuuri… a very pretty name.)

He nodded slowly. “I think I need a math tutor.”

“And you aren’t just asking me because I’m Asian, right?” Yuuri replied, his brows furrowed in a way that made Viktor’s stomach turn inside out. _Oh god. Oh fuck.fuck_ , I’m so sorry,” Viktor spluttered, pointing at the text on Yuuri’s name tag, the adorably sketched hamster with a speech bubble reading “Ask Me For Help!”. “I... I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“Okay, not a complete puck head.” Yuuri interrupted with a giggle, adjusting his glasses. “Just teasing.” The small gesture was so sweet and innocent that he almost didn’t catch what Yuuri had said. He gasped in (only slightly dramatized) horror, clutching at his pullover. 

“I resent that, I have at least half of a functioning brain.” Viktor snapped back, trying not to be as offended as he could be. He knew he looked the part, having been forced to wear his embroidered fraternity pullover instead of his usual team jacket… his memory pulled back immediately to that photo, but he shook it quickly. “I have to retake an exam… I just need some help.”

A small smile broke across his features. “Lucky for you, I’m pretty decent with numbers.” Viktor swallowed thickly, Yuuri’s smirk setting something in him buzzing and eager. “And I just so happened to be the tutor your coach hired.”

Viktor nearly swallowed his tongue. “You are?” He asked, feeling utterly dumbstruck. Yuuri nodded, smiling something that Viktor could only decode as smug. “Oh, I… okay,” he began, interrupted by Yuuri’s sweet laughter. 

“I reserved us a study room, we’ll be able to focus somewhere a little more cozy.” Yuuri said simply, gathering up Viktor’s books in one arm and waiting while Viktor organized his belongings into a haphazard pile. He followed Yuuri back to the reference desk for Yuuri to gather his own bag and books as he explained his position as a volunteer, having just finished his shift for the afternoon. 

Viktor smiled and nodded, wondering what kind of person would enjoy tutoring without being paid for it, though Yuuri seemed the type: sweet, engaging, and god, was he cute. Viktor trailed behind him as he walked to the bank of elevators just beyond the front desk and a soft silence fell between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was easy. The nerves Viktor had felt were still rumbling below the surface of his skin, and only exacerbated by the way Yuuri cocked one hip outward to support the load of books.

They stepped in together and Yuuri pressed the button for the fifth floor, and they were quickly whisked away to a balcony overlooking the rest of the library, opposite a wall of study rooms. It was quieter here, warm with the sun streaming through the windows, and Viktor felt his distraction melting away. 

Yuuri opened a door and Viktor stepped into the small room, setting his books and laptop down on the table facing a large window, the rest of campus sprawling outside, far below them. He sank into the plush bench that served as seating around the table and Yuuri joined him, slipping into the same side with him. Viktor certainly didn’t mind. 

“So. Your coach told the tutoring lab that you need help with Accounting?” Yuuri said once they had resettled, his thigh so close to Viktor’s that he could feel the warmth of his skin.

“I… uh, yeah, 202. I’m not really a math guy.” Viktor answered after he could breathe correctly again. “More of a literature man TBH.”

Yuuri snorted. “Did you just say the actual letters TBH out loud? Like to be honest?” he teased, and Viktor blushed again. Viktor opened his mouth to retort but Yuuri just waved him off. "We'll have to come back to that."

Viktor stared, open-mouthed for a moment, flustered and speechless. Yuuri giggled again, only making the speechless problem worse. He snapped himself out of it and shuffled through the pile of books for his notebook, his neat handwriting reading like an entirely different language, only further proof of how little he understood.

“Oh… you have Baranovskaya...” Yuuri asked after a moment, and Viktor nodded. “I had her in 203. She’s so strict. Here, I have a few tricks.”

Viktor watched, breathless as the cute library boy proceeded to pull out his calculator, adorned with a pair of googly eyes on the cover. “So… you… um, what’s your major?” Viktor asked, flummoxed for any other kind of conversation as Yuuri’s thigh kept brushing his own. 

“Hospitality and Tourism Management,” Yuuri answered easily, furrowing his brows at Viktor’s notes from the previous few classes. “Minor in Business… lots of math, lots of Accounting. You?”

Viktor felt himself light up. It wasn’t often that people asked him about his academic career… only his eligibility to stay on the ice. “Kinesiology and Physical Therapy!”

Yuuri smiled sideways at him, and Viktor’s heart thumped at the sight of that pretty grin. Viktor thanked him silently when he didn’t pursue the usual chaser question, “what about going professional?”. Instead he just smiled and turned back to Viktor’s notes. “How do you read these?” he asked, and Viktor laughed nervously. 

“I… well, I don’t. Not really.” Viktor answered truthfully, feeling his cheeks flash with color. He didn’t usually need the notes in his other classes, he passed his exams without much effort. Everything else came easily when he… when he tried. A pang of something ugly settled in his stomach as he realized Georgi had been right, Yakov had been right too. He stopped trying. He sighed and turned back to Yuuri, who had stopped reading, focusing on Viktor's face. “I am failing the class, after all.” he finally said, a self-deprecating laugh falling from his lips.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” Yuuri flushed and scrambled for an apology that Viktor quickly laughed off. 

“You’ve been teasing me all this time, don’t stop now.” Viktor laughed, only afterward realizing what he had said had more than one meaning. “So. Uh, Hospitality?” he quickly changed the subject, hoping Yuuri wouldn’t notice the flush on his cheeks. 

“Yeah, my family owns an inn back home, I’m going to move back after graduation and help them run it.” Yuuri answered, more on autopilot than anything else. _He probably got that question all the time, you idiot_ , Viktor scorned himself internally. 

“I bet it’s gorgeous there,” Viktor murmured, watching Yuuri work out a handful of the problems Viktor had transcribed in his notes. 

“I don’t know… it’s pretty gorgeous here too,” Yuuri said under his breath, and Viktor’s breath caught in his throat at the sensation of Yuuri’s thigh brushing against his. He couldn’t know if it had been purposeful or accidental, but god, if Yuuri had meant something there… “Okay, so, I think this should help you.” 

His voice pushed through the fog of imaginary touch, the persistent thought of the privacy they had found here, how easily Viktor could push Yuuri into the bench seat, running his fingers through his hair, hearing Yuuri chant Viktor’s name like a whispered prayer. 

Yuuri showed him a few handy workarounds for all of the professor’s “usual” problems, and it was so incredibly assuring to hear that Viktor wasn’t the only one struggling with his professor’s teaching style. 

“Sometimes the only thing keeping you from understanding is the right teacher,” Yuuri said with a smile when Viktor began to thank him profusely. “And she’s clearly not the right teacher for you.”

Viktor smiled. “Mm, I think you’re the right teacher, Yuuri.” he said, watching as Yuuri’s cheeks flushed that pretty shade of pink. The sun had begun to set and Viktor wondered absently how long they had been sitting there, chatting about their dogs and sharing photos, talking about home and family, frustrations with math class.

Yuuri shifted in his posture, bending one leg beneath himself and turning to face Viktor. "So, you have your retake tomorrow, is there anything else you need me to cover?"

Viktor swallowed thickly, noticing his plump lips and just how kissable they looked in the light of golden hour, warm sunlight spilling over his skin like honey. The color caught in his eyes as well, highlighting beautiful gold flecks in his mahogany irises.

“No, I… I think I got it all.” Viktor answered, daring to mirror Yuuri’s position, resting his elbow on the back of the bench. “Besides… your phone number, maybe?” Viktor asked, hoping it didn’t come across as douchey as it sounded in his mouth. 

Yuuri smiled, a playful thing that curled the corners of his mouth upward, his eyes crinkling adorably behind his glasses. He looked like the embodiment of mischief, his smile full of mirth and molasses. Yuuri moved forward slowly, sliding a bit closer and encouraging Viktor to do the same until their knees bumped against one another, their dangling toes close enough to touch. 

Viktor could feel the electricity crackling in the air between them, the question lingering, hanging over them. Yuuri met his gaze and _fuck_ , he licked his lips. 

“Let’s make a deal.” Yuuri said, his voice low and soft, his mouth so deliciously close to Viktor’s mouth that he could lean forward just the tiniest bit and kiss him. Viktor nodded softly, not trusting his voice to speak. “If you pass your retake tomorrow morning...” 

Viktor’s pulse hammered in his ears as Yuuri pulled his glasses off his nose and set them to the side, the effect of which made his face look eerily familiar. But all of those thoughts were immediately swallowed by Yuuri’s eyes, mere centimeters from his own. 

“Then you can have my number.” Yuuri’s voice was barely a whisper, Viktor could feel his breath against his lips. His mouth opened and closed in a handful of aborted attempts to reply, his fist curled tight around the cushion below him. 

“Y-Yuuri,” Viktor managed after a moment, knowing how desperate he looked. “Can I… _god_ , can I kiss you?” His breaths shaky and uneven, matched the heave of his chest, his skin felt too hot and it prickled with goosebumps. 

Yuuri hummed, a soft thing that made Viktor ache. “Pass your exam. Then you can kiss me.”

Viktor _whined_. Actually _audibly_ whined. “Yuuuuuuuuri…” 

“I can’t kiss a student while I’m on the clock, Golden Boy.” Yuuri purred playfully, tracing the embroidered Greek lettering on his pullover. “It doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ to,” he added, regret in his voice. 

Viktor groaned, the desperation building under his skin. Something about Yuuri’s tone made him wish they could do a thousand horribly salacious things, like defiling the bench they were both still sitting so close to each other on, but he held back. 

“Cruel. Sadistic. Heartless.” Viktor protested. “Such a tease.” Yuuri laughed again, his cheeks that pretty shade of pink; Viktor was sure he was faring no better, his eyes immediately falling to his lap where he was very clearly tenting his shorts. 

“Guess you have a little motivation to pass.” Yuuri said with a wink, leaning away and pulling his binder from the pile of books spread across the table. “Um, Viktor, I… on a different note.”

Viktor sighed and leaned forward again, willing his erection to ebb. “What is it?” 

Yuuri blew out a soft breath. “I’ve… been there. Where you are.” His voice was quiet, almost an entirely different person from the purring tease that had nearly crawled into his lap. Viktor eyed him curiously, wordlessly. “Freshman year, right after I moved away. I was… I was in a really bad place. I was homesick, I hated it here, I wanted to give up and go back home. I lost my ambition, my motivation, everything. Gone. Poof.” Viktor remained silent as Yuuri spoke, listening. “I needed help. More than just… homework help.”

Viktor nodded, understanding. Something in his chest ached for Yuuri, the pain of admitting defeat, of admitting to failure… it stung more than he’d like.

“I… please don’t take it the wrong way, I don’t mean to offend you,” Yuuri said carefully, measuredly. “The people at the counseling center are great, and you… They might be able to help you too.” 

Viktor frowned when Yuuri turned back to face him, his mouth in a round o. “What?”

“You’re… um. You’re crying.” Yuuri said, reaching out and swiping at the tear Viktor was only now noticing as it ran down his cheek. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have assumed, God, that was so rude of me,” he babbled, reaching for the box of tissues on the table. 

Viktor was too dazed to respond, simply taking the tissue from Yuuri’s hand and wiping at his eyes. “I… no, it’s… fine,” he mumbled after a few moments, feeling as if he’d been scrubbed raw, his skin stinging, but clean. 

“Can I at least take you out for dinner? To apologize?” Yuuri asked, his glasses now firmly back on his nose. 

It took every bone in Viktor’s body to refuse. “After I pass my exam,” he replied, before bursting into a peal of laughter at Yuuri’s shocked expression. “Then you can take me to dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see y'all back here on Saturday for part three! 
> 
> 💖ia


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor has good news to share and receives his reward.

Viktor barely slept that night, his mind full of thoughts of Yuuri, of his laugh, his smile, his cute blushing cheeks, his lips… it was a blissful four hours of sleep, Viktor decided when he woke, nearly leaping out of bed when his alarm went off.

The thought of seeing Yuuri again, of telling him good news, proving himself both to Yuuri and to everyone, it lit a fire in his veins he hadn’t felt in years. He wished he could message Yuuri then, thanking him for such a simple thing as showing him a trick on his calculator.

Professor Baranovskaya, the lemon-faced, impossibly stern woman that she was, didn’t crack a smile or utter a hello when Viktor met her at her office, just pushed the exam into his hands and pointed at the small desk in the corner. Viktor dared to chuckle as he slipped into his seat, pulling his pencil and calculator out of his fanny pack. The shape of his calculator felt different in his hand, and he smiled down to his bones at the sight of Yuuri’s calculator in his hand instead of his own, two googly eyes looking back at him.

“Something funny, Mister Nikiforov?” she asked, looking down her nose at Viktor as he began the exam.

“Oh nothing, don’t mind me.” Viktor said, a spark lighting in his chest at the sight of a long line of familiar equations on paper. He made note to kiss Yuuri twice for every single answer he got right.

His professor stared at him with disbelief in her eyes when he stood and handed his exam across the desk. “You… you didn’t cheat, I can have you expelled for cheating, Nikiforov,” she deadpanned, scanning Viktor’s answers quickly, her eyes wide.

“You watched me take it,” Viktor replied as easy as breathing, pointing at the spot where his calculator- well, Yuuri’s calculator- was still laying open, his bright pink fanny pack still slung over the back of the chair. “I was sitting right there, how could I have cheated?”

The professor’s mouth pressed into a hard line and she turned back to grading, that red pen hovering scant millimeters from the surface of the paper. The pen didn’t touch it.

“You… they're all correct."

Viktor could barely control his excitement. "So I passed?" he asked, his chest swelling with pride, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“It’s a retake, so the first twenty points are knocked off for being late, but yes, you passed.” His professor’s eyes narrowed, and Viktor’s excitement only continued to build. “Your overall grade is still low, though. Whatever you’re doing…” she gestured at the page, a beautiful, marvelous 80% written at the top, “Keep doing it.”

Viktor thanked her profusely and all but ran out of her office, Yuuri’s calculator clutched in his hand, his fanny pack wrapped around his chest. He had to see Yuuri, he had to tell him. Viktor flew down the stairs and spilled out into the sunny morning, nearly blinded by the sun shining off the glass wall of the library.

 _I’m coming_ , Viktor laughed under his breath as he ran, his heart full to bursting.

“He’s not here,” the man at Yuuri’s desk replied without looking up, his nametag reading Phichit. “Oh, it’s you.” he said with a smirk when he finally looked up from his book, a knowing look in his eyes. Viktor recognized him almost immediately as Chris’s little bird from Wednesday morning. “Did you pass your exam?” he asked in a singsong voice that Viktor would have made Viktor roll his eyes yesterday, before Yuuri.

“I did, but do you know where Yuuri is?” Viktor asked, knowing he looked potentially deranged, his hair mussed from his run from the faculty building. “I… his calculator, he told me I could kiss him if I passed...”

“Oh my god, _you_ have Penelope? He was worried he had lost her,” Phichit said with a laugh, pulling out his phone, green, with hamsters on it. It was no guess who had doodled the hamster on Yuuri’s name tag then, Viktor chuckled to himself. “He’s at the rink, since it’s his day off.”

Viktor furrowed his brow. “The rink?”

“Do you need directions? Or are you not the captain of the hockey team?” Phichit eyed him curiously, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“No, I… I know where the rink is, I just… he skates?” Viktor stammered, feeling himself drawn ever deeper into Yuuri, into his orbit, into his world. “Like. On the ice?”

“There’s a lot Yuuri didn’t tell you, loverboy. Now get a move on before I call him and ruin your surprise.” Phichit shooed him away, laughing at how quickly Viktor took off running, snapping a photo to send Yuuri after the dust cleared. “Good god, he’ll never believe me,” he muttered, saving the photo of a flustered Viktor Nikiforov sprinting out of the library.

Viktor was a Division I forward, but he was nearly out of breath from the run by the time he made it across campus and up the multiple flights of stairs to the ice rink. They had open skate for students during the day, as long as they cleared out before the hockey teams began practice. A few figure skaters, both professional and amateur, were finishing their schooling at the university, and took advantage of open skate outside of their usual practices or just to socialize with friends. Viktor had been among them before, skating with friends for fun, but had more recently taken to staying home instead.

The moment he caught Yuuri’s form on the ice his heart simply stopped. His breath caught in his throat. There he was, black spandex stretched over long legs, strong, thick thighs… and a familiar sweatshirt hanging loosely around him, red and white, the bold letters across his back boasted Viktor’s last name, his number. Nikiforov, 96.

 _“Cutie with the cake…”_ Viktor murmured to himself, so silently it was nothing more than a breath.

Yuuri was the man he had slept with that night, woken up beside him, his warmth pressed against Viktor’s. Yuuri was the one who had sent him those messages, that photo, Yuuri… oh _god_ , Yuuri. Wave after wave of realization hit Viktor, memories flooding back, albeit soaked in alcohol and dipped in a fine layer of hangover memory-erasing magic.

He hadn’t put it together until now. He owed Yuuri at least a thousand apology kisses, he decided, on top of the forty he had rightfully earned from his exam, and the one Yuuri had promised.

He watched in rapt awe as Yuuri took long, slow laps around the ice, shifting his weight from side to side, gracefully extending an arm over his head, rolling through a seamless crossover. Viktor envied that movement, the grace without aggression, the ease of water over well-worn rock. Yuuri was elegance, perfect beauty on the ice; his body moved with the precision of a dancer, and the execution of a beautiful arabesque proved it.

Viktor wasn’t sure how long he watched Yuuri skate, sitting in the first row of bleachers, mouth open, silently admiring the perfect circles he traced in the ice. Yuuri didn’t seem to notice him, until he paused at center ice, his eyes sweeping the room; their gazes met then, Viktor’s eager icy blues locking onto Yuuri’s earnest amber. His glasses had been left on the barrier beside his phone and a water bottle, so Yuuri’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed.

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked, as if he was unsure of his audience. “Did Phichit tell you where to find me?” he asked as he pushed back toward the barrier, folding his arms over the fiberglass lip. Viktor stood from his place, nearly stumbling at the sudden numbness in his feet. (How long had he been sitting there?)

“He did,” Viktor answered, meeting Yuuri where he was. “I have some news for you…” he said in a soft voice, the roar of the air conditioning mirroring the buzz of excitement in his veins. Yuuri hummed, his head tipping to the side in question.

“Some news?” Yuuri asked, smiling when he noticed the way Viktor’s cheeks had begun to flush, how clearly his eyes had focused on his lips. Yuuri tangled his fingers in the strings of his borrowed sweatshirt, wrapping it around his pointer.

“I passed my exam.” Viktor said with a lopsided grin, something slightly sheepish in his tone. “And… I’d… god, I’d really like to kiss you.” Yuuri smirked and fisted two gloved hands in Viktor’s polo, tugging him closer and pressing a wet kiss to Viktor’s smiling lips. Sparks bounced along every individual vertebrae in Viktor’s spine, Yuuri’s mouth moving in familiar patterns against his as more memories from Tuesday night resurfaced.

Wet, hungry kisses shared against Viktor’s bedroom door, sloopy, uncoordinated scrambling to remove clothing, pushing Yuuri’s t-shirt haphazardly over his head, apologizing when they caught on his glasses.

Yuuri let out a soft moan, his hands tightening in Viktor’s shirt, trying to pull him closer than he already was, the barrier pushing his hips away, intent on keeping them apart. Viktor remembered how Yuuri had ground so eagerly against his thigh that night, slotted between his legs, and god, if he wouldn’t love to let Yuuri do that again. Viktor’s lips parted in a moan of Yuuri’s name, Yuuri’s tongue chased the sound into his mouth greedily, Viktor nipped at Yuuri’s lower lip, making him whine.

Yuuri’s arms made their way around his shoulders, clinging desperately to him, trying to pull him over the barrier and onto the ice, but Viktor broke away before he could topple over, headfirst. Yuuri was panting, lips red and kiss-bruised, his hair mussed, skin glistening with sweat from his skate. Viktor was no better off, and he absolutely knew it that time, feeling his skin flush all the way down his throat.

“I… um,” Viktor breathed, his voice weak and cracked around the edges, in a way that he hadn’t heard himself sound in years. “I promised myself I’d kiss you twice for every right answer…”

Yuuri’s reddened lips cocked up on one side. “And how many was that, Viktor?” he asked, his eyebrow lifting in a tease.

“I got all of them right.” Viktor answered, dumbstruck as Yuuri pushed off the barrier with a smirk curling those full lips.

“Then you’ve got plenty of kisses to give me, don’t you?” Yuuri teased, spinning in a tight circle on the ice. "What are you waiting for, Golden Boy?" he asked, skating away in easy backward strokes, "Gonna come skate with me or what?"

Viktor laughed, a bright, brilliant thing that bubbled out of his throat without thinking. "I thought you were going to take me out?" he teased, leaning over the barrier with his chin in his hand. "And if I remember correctly… I'm meeting someone at a party tonight." Yuuri flushed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I… I’m meeting someone too…” Yuuri said, and Viktor watched as something shifted in Yuuri, his expression shifting from sheepish to bold. He swept his hair back over his forehead, still slightly damp from his skate, and Viktor realized how easy it had been to mistake Yuuri for someone other than his bedmate from the other night. Yuuri transformed when those blue frames disappeared, his strong, inky brows on full display like that. “He looks a lot like you, actually…”

Viktor chuckled, his tone low and rumbling. “Does he? How interesting… my Yuuri has a type~” he purred, only afterward considering that it might be rude to call Yuuri his anything. “I mean, Yuuri, just Yuuri. You’re… you don’t have to be mine--”

Yuuri closed the space between them and pressed a finger to Viktor’s lips. “I want to be yours, Viktor,” he murmured softly, replacing his finger with his mouth, kissing him with a gentle moan. This kiss was nothing like the first, no tongues fought for territory, no fists wrinkled clothing. They simply melted into one another, bleeding together in a soft, intimate moment. It felt like coming home, like slowly drifting on wispy summer clouds floating lazily through the sky.

They pulled apart, stars in their eyes.

“Wow,” Viktor breathed gently, barely willing to open his eyes, should he wake up in a world without having met Yuuri.

“I know.” Yuuri laughed gently, and god, Viktor wanted to bottle that sound, keep it forever in a vial around his neck and close to his heart.

“Let’s get you out of those skates, hm?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri smiled and nodded, stepping off the ice through the gap in the barrier, clicking his guards into place. The look on Yuuri’s face when Viktor offered to unlace him, to pull his feet free from the boots, was utterly priceless, though _the foot conversation_ would best be saved for a second or third date.

They shared a truly adorable lunch at the 24-hour diner down the road, where Yuuri and his roommate (who was also Chris’s little bird, Viktor realized) frequented after party hopping, a tactic that Viktor had every intention on stealing for himself. Their conversation inevitably drifted to skating and to hockey, and Viktor learned that not only was Yuuri a fan of the team, but he was a fan of Viktor specifically, having originally taken the photo he sent for himself.

“I liked thinking that I fucked the Captain, is that so bad?” Yuuri muttered under his breath, taking a long drag of his milkshake. Viktor’s belly laugh turned a few heads.

“Oh, my Yuuri has a little conquest streak, does he?” Viktor teased when he could breathe again. A small part of him considered that a comment like that might have rocked him the day before, the thought of Yuuri enjoying sleeping with him for his station… but it just made him laugh. “Tell me, did you sleep with the field hockey Captain too? And the quarterback?”

Yuuri flushed adorably, knowing Viktor meant no harm by it. “Nope,” he replied with confidence, “Just you, 96.”

Viktor snorted, nearly choking on his fries. “Coach calls me that, don’t call me that.” he protested through his laughter, gulping down half his glass of water.

“Oh? And what should I call you instead?” Yuuri said, Viktor’s laughter spreading to him as well.

“Mmm… you could call me Ice Daddy,” he floated the nickname Christophe had playfully given him after overhearing one of his temporary bedfellows call him that in the throes of passion, and it made Yuuri’s cheeks go bright red. “Or… Viten’ka, instead?” he offered, and Yuuri’s look of utter shock quelled to curiosity.

“Viten’ka… a diminutive?” Yuuri asked, and Viktor’s stomach flipped at the sound of the name on Yuuri’s tongue. “Not that I’m opposed to Daddy… but I think I like Viten’ka.” Viktor had to think that one over for a few minutes.

* * *

The afternoon passed quickly after that, Viktor’s lips pressing to Yuuri’s every chance he could, and Yuuri adorably counted every kiss, even past the allotted forty VIktor had earned from his exam, and he’d never been happier. Their fingers laced together as they walked back to campus, Yuuri still wearing Viktor’s hoodie, still proudly displaying his name. Something instinctive in Viktor enjoyed the sight, Yuuri’s perky ass bouncing under the hem of the sweatshirt, rucked up over the curve of his cheeks.

The difference in their height only made the sight more appealing, the way Yuuri looked so small in Viktor’s clothing drove his possessive, caveman hindbrain wild. Yuuri caught him staring a handful of times while they walked, never failing to make Viktor flush and avert his eyes.

“You keep staring, Viten’ka…” Yuuri wielded the diminutive like a weapon, and _oh_ , the things it did to Viktor. Yuuri reached for Viktor’s hand and slipped it comfortably into place curled around one of his asscheeks. Viktor fumbled for a moment, his fingers digging into that sumptuous flesh, kneading and squeezing. Yuuri whined softly, arching his back into the contact.

“Can you really blame me?” Viktor whispered softly, a chill running down his spine at the sound Yuuri made. “Such a gorgeous ass, how could I not want to squeeze it a little bit?”

Yuuri giggled. “You were all over my ass Tuesday night.” he purred, and Viktor’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline.

“Oh? Was I?” Yuuri laughed again, a mischievous thing that made Viktor’s stomach twist pleasantly. “I… I don’t remember much from that night, I’ll be honest…” Yuuri’s smile was just as mischievous as his laugh, something playful brewed behind his eyes as he pulled his lower lip into his mouth. “Do you?”

They began walking again, Viktor’s arm wrapped around his waist, his hand still curled around Yuuri’s ass. “I might,” Yuuri answered, “But I’d rather hear what you remember.”

Viktor flushed as he dug back into his memory of that booze-soaked night, having lost track of all the things he had poured into his own cup. “I remember going back downstairs for something strong,” Viktor said, “Chris made me a drink…”

“A gin and tonic.” Yuuri supplied, a shit-eating grin on those perfect lips. “With lemon. I could smell it.” Viktor nearly tripped over a crack in the pavement, the house finally within sight, the bold red and gold Greek letters hanging between the eaves. “Phichit ditched me as soon as we got there.”

“So… Phichit and Chris, hm?” Viktor hummed after he composed himself again, but Yuuri prodded him in the ribs instead of answering.

“No changing the subject, Nikiforov,” he teased, “Do you remember anything else?”

Viktor hummed in thought as they crossed the street. “I remember jello shots…” he replied, the sticky sweetness paired with the burn of vodka lingered on his tongue until the morning.

Yuuri was quiet for a moment, flushing past the neck of the hoodie. “Do you remember what happened _after_ the jello shots?” Viktor shook his head, knowing that the gaps in his memory were embarrassingly large beyond that point. “You know Chris has a portable stripper pole, right?”

Viktor nodded slowly, having attended one of the classes Chris swore by, his off-ice cardio and strength training involving regular workouts on the pole at a studio downtown and in his room after buying a pole of his own.

“Well… I… may have wanted to show off a little… so I danced for you.” Yuuri mumbled the last few words, almost too fast for Viktor to catch. “Phichit and I pregamed, like, a lot, cheap champagne and Genesse, and I do a lot of dumb things when I’m drunk.”

“Wait, wait.” Viktor was far too enthralled by the thought of Yuuri having _pole danced_ for him to comment on cheap beer. “You _what?_ ”

“I danced for you. And I may have given you a lap dance. But Phichit wouldn’t give me a straight answer on whether or not that actually happened.” Viktor felt his soul physically leave his body, internally swearing he’d never get _that_ drunk again if it meant missing such painfully arousing things as Yuuri giving him a lap dance.

“Is there a chance I could have a replay of that dance someday, Yuuri?” Viktor asked after he caught his breath again, pairing the question with a soft squeeze of Yuuri’s ass, earning a small moan in reply. Viktor felt his breaths coming heavier, the urge to press his lips to Yuuri’s and not let them go was getting stronger.

Yuuri let out a shaky breath and nodded. “I’d love to,” he whispered, and Viktor was never more eager to arrive home than that moment. “Maybe later tonight?”

“God, yes.” Viktor breathed, “But maybe… in my room? Where no one else can see?”

Yuuri blushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “Getting shy now, are you, Viten’ka?” he asked, that playful smirk back on his lips; paired with the blush, god, Viktor debated running the rest of the way home. “From what Phichit told me you were ‘tongue-fucking my mouth on the couch’ in front of everyone…”

Normally, Viktor might have been embarrassed at the statement said so loudly, within earshot of the gathered few on the porch as they walked up the sidewalk, but it only made Viktor want to scoop Yuuri up in his arms and carry him up to his room.

“Was I?” Viktor asked as they walked up the steps to the porch, smiling at the handful of his brothers already milling around with their cups full. A few lifted their cups as they passed, Viktor’s hand still possessively wrapped around Yuuri’s form as they walked into the house.

“You were… and I don’t remember it, but now I know _just_ how good you are at kissing.” Yuuri’s reply shot right to Viktor’s dick, making it twitch in his jeans as they walked.

Georgi, busy laying out plastic shot glasses winked in their direction as they passed the kitchen, Yuri mimed retching as he helped Otabek pull the beer pong door off its hinges in the hallway. Viktor apologized under his breath for his little brother’s behavior as they climbed the stairs, his arousal building and coiling tighter in his gut as they made their way down the hall, finally stepping into Viktor’s room.

He wished, for a moment, that he had tidied a bit more, but Yuuri didn’t seem to mind, his eyes only focusing on Viktor. Practice clothes laid messily on the floor, his jersey thrown over the back of his desk chair, yesterday’s shorts crumpled by the bed.

Viktor stepped through after Yuuri, pulling the door gently shut, before he found himself pressed flat against it, Yuuri’s body weight holding him there. Yuuri’s hands splayed wide on either side of VIktor’s head, demanding his attention be turned only on him, only on the glowing amber of his eyes. It was like a switch had been flipped, now that they were alone, getting a second chance to do things right, to do things sober, to be able to remember when they woke up.

“I don’t remember much after you did jello shots off my ass,” Yuuri purred, dropping another bomb of a memory that Viktor hated himself for not remembering, “but I remember coming up with you, you pinning me to the door… just like this.” Viktor swallowed thickly, Yuuri’s mouth looking so painfully kissable as he spoke. “Do you remember pushing me against the door like this, Viten’ka?” Yuuri purred, his accent peeking through the cracks as his arousal began to show. “Do you remember grinding against me right here, like a desperate puppy?”

Viktor gasped at the filthy words coming from Yuuri’s mouth, finding it undeniably hot, but there were far too many clothes in the way. He canted his hips forward into Yuuri’s, both of them gasping at the friction of fabric against sensitive skin.

Yuuri leaned in even closer, slotting his leg between Viktor’s, pressing himself hard into the muscle of Viktor’s thigh. Viktor rutted against Yuuri’s hip, the sensation of it sparking stars behind his eyes as his hands gripped tightly at Yuuri’s hips, slowly inching toward his gorgeous ass.

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri panted, the sound ambrosia in his ears, “Wearing too much…”

Fingers fumbled for buttons and zippers, hooked into the waistband of Yuuri’s leggings, hands tugged Viktor’s polo over his head, but Yuuri wrapped his hand around Viktor’s wrist when he moved to peel him out of his borrowed sweatshirt.

“No, this… this stays on.” Yuuri insisted, and Viktor moaned his approval. His cock, just as hard as Viktor’s, jumped with excitement as Viktor ran his hands over the curves of his waist and hips under the sweatshirt, his skin so unbearably warm and smooth Viktor wished he could run the blade of his tongue over every dip and curve, mapping him like a cartographer; he’d find every spot that made Yuuri moan, every spot that made him whimper and gasp.

“You’d like me to fuck you while you wear my name, hm?” Viktor rumbled, “God, that’s hot, Yuuri, do you have any idea what you’ve done to me lately?” When he pulled his hands away, Yuuri’s cock curved away from his body, pushing up the hem of his hoodie, the shade of red nearly matching Yuuri’s flushed skin where the crown peeked out from inside his foreskin. Even Yuuri’s cock was perfect.

Yuuri nodded, leaning away from the door and eyeing the bed in the corner. “I do… you’ve been doing the same to me all week.” Yuuri’s fingers laced with Viktor’s as he tugged him toward Viktor’s bed, still messy from that morning. “I kept thinking about waking up here, knowing I fucked you, knowing that you had made me feel that good… I kept wearing this sweatshirt and smelling you, t...touching myself in it, thinking about you…”

Viktor’s breath hitched at Yuuri’s words, his cock twitching at the thought of Yuuri, spread out in his own bed, wearing his sweatshirt and playing with himself, making himself feel good. “ _Fuck_ , you can’t just say things like that, have some mercy, baby,” he half-panted, half-moaned, climbing into his bed and pulling Yuuri down into his lap.

“What if I don’t want to have some mercy, Viten’ka?” Yuuri purred, pressing a long line of kisses long Viktor’s jaw and throat, nipping at his skin, surely leaving marks. “What if I want to make you regret leaving me alone that morning? Instead of taking me for another round?”

Viktor hissed a breath through his teeth at the thought, letting out a curse in strangled Russian as Yuuri wrapped his hand around his straining cock, red and leaking between them. “B-but I would have been even later for m-my exam,” Viktor tried valiantly to joke despite the devastatingly perfect strokes of Yuuri’s hand, the way he flicked his wrist so perfectly over his head, sweeping up the precome beading at the end of his dick and lapping at his own fingers with coquettish kitten licks that made him envy Yuuri’s hand.

“Oh, but Viten’ka… you have a private tutor now…” Yuuri crooned, rolling his hips against Viktor’s thighs, grinding down into his lap. “You _could_ have fucked me into the mattress again, you could have made the whole house know just how good this dick feels in me.”

Viktor moaned again, a throaty, desperate thing that a Viktor with any pride would have been ashamed of. “Oh _god, f-fuck_ , I’m sorry, Yuuri, I just didn’t want to… _fuck_ , I didn’t want to m-make you uncomfortable, I.. h-hahh,” he gasped when Yuuri’s other hand dove down and cupped his balls, gently rolling them in his hand. “ _Nnnngh_ , Yuuri, please-”

Yuuri interrupted with a heated kiss, stealing Viktor’s breath and his begging, swallowing it all down. His hands didn’t relent making Viktor scramble for fistfuls of his sheets in desperate attempt to keep himself grounded. Yuuri slipped off his lap and kneeled between Viktor’s thighs, swallowing him down to the root with no difficulty, and Viktor really didn’t stand a chance after that.

Viktor’s legs shook as Yuuri sucked him, his hands lacing into Yuuri’s hair, whether to ground himself or encourage Yuuri to continue, he wasn’t sure, but everything inside him compelled him to hold on. He chanted Yuuri’s name like a mantra, his hips twitching with the urge to buck up into Yuuri’s mouth, to push himself further down his throat, to feel him swallow around him.

Yuuri moaned, wrapped his hand around himself and began stroking messily, soft, needy whimpers rumbling through his throat and into Viktor’s length, setting his core buzzing with the vibrations. Viktor couldn’t hold in the sob of pleasure at that point; it ripped itself from his throat as the tightened coil of his arousal finally snapped.

Viktor’s hips jumped off the bed as he came, pulling out of Yuuri’s mouth in the process. A ribbon of come landed across Yuuri’s face, striping on the right lens of his glasses. It all happened too quickly to react, Viktor’s consciousness hung on the thinnest thread as he watched Yuuri pull up his sweatshirt and a dark t-shirt beneath it, revealing his lean, toned stomach. Yuuri bit down on the hem, freeing both hands: one to stroke himself, the other to tease a pebbled nipple, pluck it and roll it between his forefingers and thumb in a way that made Viktor’s mouth water.

“Oh _Yuuuuuuri_ ,” Viktor moaned, his voice rough with lingering arousal and mellowed lust, “Look at you… so sexy, getting yourself off after sucking my cock so well.” Yuuri whimpered with the praise, his arm speeding up, his hips fucking into his fist. “Did it get you all worked up? Sucking my dick? Do you like making me feel good, Yuuuuuuri?” Viktor crooned, and Yuuri sobbed a muffled moan into the hoodie.

“C-close,” Yuuri moaned between gritted teeth, his chest heaving under the ministrations of his own hand. “Gonna come, V-Viktoru,”

“Come for me, Yuuri,” Viktor encouraged, his stomach flipping at the sound of his own name moaned in Yuuri’s accent. “Show me how good it feels.”

Yuuri gasped, the direction seemed to go right to his dick; Yuuri muffled a scream with the sleeve of the sweatshirt as he came, hot stripes of spend streaking Viktor’s stomach and thighs. He all but collapsed into bed beside Viktor, both of them shuddering through the aftershocks of their orgasms.

“I… your glasses,” Viktor mumbled after a moment, gently pulling the blue frames from Yuuri’s face, though the sight was unapologetically erotic. “I’m sorry… I’ll clean them for you, okay?”

Yuuri whined and shook his head, grabbing at Viktor’s bare shoulders when he began to move away. “Not letting you ditch me again.” he mumbled, furrowing his brows in an adorably sleepy way.

“Can I at least get a tissue?” Viktor laughed softly, Yuuri’s grip released _just_ enough to allow him to grab a tissue from the side table and leave Yuuri’s glasses behind. After cleaning both of them up, Yuuri curled into Viktor’s side, running his fingers along the ridges of his stomach, his clearly defined abs and pecs.

“That was amazing, Yuuri,” Viktor breathed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Aren’t you getting warm?” he asked, earning another adorable scowl from Yuuri in lieu of a reply. “Okay, okay, I won’t make you take it off.”

Yuuri’s expression eased into a blushed smile, and it was with great excitement that Viktor felt something hard growing harder against his thigh.

“Getting excited again already?” Viktor teased, reaching his free hand (the one not currently pinned beneath Yuuri, that was) across himself and between their bodies, finding Yuuri’s half-hard. His partner whined softly, but didn’t pull away from the touch.

“S-s-sensitive,” Yuuri whispered, soft breaths huffing against Viktor’s chest as he gently stroked him. “I… I want to feel you in me again, Viten’ka,” his voice was dripping with need, and god, how could Viktor resist such a desire? Viktor moved slowly, easing Yuuri onto his stomach. He moved so languidly, so soft and pliant from his orgasm he felt like a doll in Viktor’s hands.

“Can you keep yourself up?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri nodded, holding himself steady on his own while Viktor moved away to pull the bottle of lube from the bedside table. Yuuri shuddered and rocked back onto Viktor’s slickened finger as he pressed it in, a soft mewl rolling from his mouth.

“More, Viktor, please,” Yuuri begged, and Viktor complied, gently stretching Yuuri’s walls as he felt himself begin to stiffen again. He envied Yuuri’s stamina and refractory period, his own usually lasting at least twenty minutes… but with Yuuri… god, his dick was twitching again already.

Wiggling another finger inside Yuuri’s hole, Viktor tried to focus on massaging his body into relaxation; the thought of Yuuri’s tight, clutching muscles wrapped around his dick was almost too distracting to get the job done. Viktor easily found his prostate, gently milking it with his fingers. A sharp, broken little moan wrenched itself from Yuuri’s lips, and Viktor watched as a bead of precome dripped onto the bed between Yuuri’s legs.

With more pressure and more coaxing, Yuuri continued to devolve, gasping moans shifting to whimpers, nearly every word he spoke interrupted with a sharp breath or a _please_. Viktor bit his lip against the urge to stroke himself, despite how deliciously hot Yuuri was like that. His cock was leaking again, twitching and hard between his legs as he prepared Yuuri, his body thrumming with the urge to fill him to the brim.

“I-in me, want you in me,” he whined as Viktor pressed against his prostate again, a high, strangled noise accompanied shaking legs and quick, gasping breaths. “St-stop, t-too close, don’t wanna come yet,” Yuuri protested and Viktor’s hand immediately stilled.

“Okay, alright, I’m pulling out.” Vitkor said softly, gently withdrawing and reaching for the lube again. “Do you want me to use a condom?” he asked, cursing himself for forgetting to ask before things had gone so far.

“I…” Yuuri fumbled for his words for a moment. “I don’t know if we did on Tuesday. And I just sucked you off.” Viktor didn’t have to guess that Yuuri was anxious about it, he himself felt terrible. “Your fingers were _just_ in my ass.”

“I’ll wear one tonight, and we can go get tested in the morning?” Viktor offered, leaning over Yuuri’s frame and kissing each knob of his spine through the fabric of his hoodie. Yuuri turned, pressing a kiss to Viktor’s lips when he could reach them. “I’m sorry, I should have asked sooner.”

“It’s alright,” he murmured against Viktor’s lips, a smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes in that perfectly beautiful way. “Thank you for thinking of it.” Viktor smiled and nodded, reaching for one of the foil packets he had stashed between his bed and the bedframe. He made a show of opening the package carefully, rolling it over his length slowly, and slicking himself up with long, languid movements.

“Are you ready?” Viktor asked, lining himself up, every nerve ending in his body firing and aching to feel Yuuri wrapped around him. Yuuri’s hole twitched, the dusky rose color of his skin shining and wet with lube.

“God, yes,” Yuuri replied, a desperate fire burning in his voice, a flicker of that demanding siren surging with the demand to “Fuck me, god, please, fuck me.”

Viktor moaned and pressed in slowly, a twinge of pleasure curling in his balls at the tightness of Yuuri’s body around his head. He began easing forward, listening to the soft, panting breaths falling from Yuuri’s mouth, the small keening whines of _more_ and _deeper_ intermingled with his name and diminutive.

When Viktor was fully sheathed in Yuuri’s body, his vision began to swim, the sensation of it all, tight heat wrapped around him gripping so desperately, his name and number emblazoned on Yuuri’s back like a brand, like a claim.

But Viktor hadn’t claimed Yuuri, no, it was the other way around, it always had been. Yuuri had pulled him into _his_ orbit, plucking him out of space, out of the dark and pulling him to warmth, to light and life like gravity. Yuuri had seduced him, the memories and secondhand stories proved it. Yuuri had pulled him into bed, Yuuri had drained him of all cognitive thought; it was all Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri. Viktor’s heart rattled in his chest as he began moving, slowly dragging his cock in and out of Yuuri’s hole, the double thrum of his pulse sang Yuuri’s name. Viktor wrapped his hands firmly around Yuuri’s hips, his own hips snapping against Yuuri’s ass like a cracking whip, electricity rippling through them like magnetized polar ends.

“Sit up against the headboard,” Yuuri directed, his voice low, hungry and sultry. Viktor didn’t protest, simply withdrawing and obeying, propping himself up in his standard issue twin bed, flushing at just how much precome had leaked into the condom. Yuuri smirked and straddled Viktor’s hips, leaning down and capturing his mouth once again, moaning into the kiss like Viktor’s lips were a sumptuous, rich dessert.

Viktor’s cock jumped and twitched against Yuuri’s ass, insistent on diving back into his hole, but Yuuri had other plans. They broke apart, gasping for breath and Yuuri turned around, his back once again facing Viktor, Yuuri’s claim on him once again bold and obvious.

“Put it in, Viten’ka,” Yuuri purred, rolling his hips; Viktor muttered another long string of Russian curses as he guided himself back into Yuuri’s hole, his partner slowly sinking down onto his length until his ass kissed Viktor’s muscled pelvis. Yuuri’s thighs and ass tensed around him, the shiver of pleasure that Yuuri felt bled into Viktor too, two low moans filled the room in perfect harmony.

“God,” Viktor moaned, watching his cock disappear into Yuuri’s body, between those supple, soft cheeks. He mourned not being able to see pleasure twisting Yuuri’s beautiful features, but Viktor knew he would have plenty of other times to watch Yuuri’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth fall open in pleasure, that blush spill like rosy ink across his skin.

Yuuri lifted himself up off Viktor’s length, sensitive skin sparking as he dragged himself up and dropped back down. Viktor knew he wouldn’t be lasting long, not after being so expertly ruined by Yuuri’s mouth and hands.

“Vik-tor,” Yuuri panted, finding a rhythm with his hips that made Viktor’s heart race. “T-touch me, please,” he begged, his voice choked off and desperate. Viktor wasted no time in leaning forward, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s body, one hand curling around Yuuri’s leaking dick and stroking, the other hand roaming his chest and stomach beneath his borrowed hoodie.

“So perfect, god, you feel so good,” Viktor moaned into the material, the coarse stitching of the embroidery rubbing against his lips was a reminder; Yuuri had given him a second chance, at more than just a good lay.

He’d given him a second chance to try.

“Y-Yuuri, faster, _god_ , please,” Viktor panted, thrusting upward into Yuuri on a downstroke, their skin slapping together so lewdly it made him shudder, his orgasm quickly approaching. Viktor gasped as Yuuri burst in his hand, come bubbling over his fist. The clench of Yuuri’s body around him pulled him down over the edge with him, a shout of Yuuri’s name muffled by fabric and skin.

They stayed there for a long while, his cock slowly softening in Yuuri, their bodies wrung out and limp. Yuuri slumped back against Viktor’s chest, resting in perfect position to kiss along his jaw and throat, humming like a content housecat.

“You know, Viten’ka, you never texted me back.” Yuuri mumbled after a while, finally gaining enough strength to sit up, letting Viktor toss the used condom. “After you invited me to the party.”

Viktor laughed and shrugged. “What can I say, I got distracted by a cute boy at the library.” Yuuri snorted a laugh, playfully swatting at Viktor’s hands when he tried to sneak them under his hoodie.

Moving slowly, Yuuri pulled the sweatshirt off, tossed it aside and curled up against Viktor’s side, their bare skin hot where it met. Viktor’s eyes nearly jumped out of his skull at the mosaic of dark red and purple hickeys in Yuuri’s skin, clustered around his throat, his collarbones.

“Did… I leave those?” Viktor stammered, running a gentle finger over one of them, Yuuri’s cheeks flushing.

“Well. I haven’t hooked up with anyone in… god, a year?” Yuuri mused with a self-deprecating laugh, running his hand through his hair. “So unless I’m beating myself up in my sleep, yeah, you left these behind.”

Viktor couldn’t look away, never wanted to. “It’s a lot better when I remember it.” he said, intending it to be a private thought, but his mouth betrayed him. “You know, being here, with you. Holding you.” Yuuri smiled, that soft, warm thing that spilled warmth into Viktor too.

“I like it better too,” Yuuri said, melting into Viktor’s arms, where Viktor was more than content to keep him. “Just don’t ditch me again, okay? That’s not allowed anymore.”

Viktor couldn’t fight the laugh that bubbled up out of his chest. “As long as you promise to dance for me again.” he teased, kissing the button of Yuuri’s nose. “And go on another date with me?”

Yuuri hummed, pressing his finger to his lips in thought, or a dramatization of it, at least. “Deal. But I keep the hoodie.”

“Will you wear it to the game tomorrow? It’s at home, you don’t even have to drive!” Viktor asked, eager to have Yuuri's amber eyes in the stands watching. “Please?”

Yuuri giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to Viktor’s heart-shaped smile. “I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed the ride! (let's be real it isn't one of my fics without smut lmao) 
> 
> Leave kudos and a comment, they fuel me! 
> 
> love you all!  
> ❤️ia  
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/ia_theauthor) | [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com)


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